Ostentatious
by Greywolf Lupous
Summary: The Outlander has some interesting property holdings.


Theron had been fairly quiet so far, but as the taxi swung upwards into the final leg of the journey, he caught sight of their destination, and couldn't suppress the low whistle.

"Did I hear right earlier when you said you had a place here?"

"Yes."

"I thought you Jedi didn't take a paycheck."

"We don't." She let out a heavy sigh, as if she had already resigned herself to this conversation before it had even begun.

"This is a _penthouse_."

"I know."

"On Nar Shaddaa."

"I _know_."

The taxi touched down gently, and Theron quickly handed over a credit chip to the driver as they clambered out. The Ithorian accepted it readily and departed to pick up his next fare. While Zakuul had cracked down heavily on the Hutt's enterprising, they had not been able to completely squelch the vibrant atmosphere of the planet — and Theron had spied more than just a few Zakuulans at the spaceport. Probably here for the casinos like the rest of the crowds, which had provided a good way for him to slip in unnoticed with the most wanted woman in the galaxy.

They still had several hours to kill before their scheduled meeting with the leader of the local resistance cell, and loitering in crowded areas was bound to attract unwanted attention. When he'd suggested they find a safe place to lay low, he hadn't expected her to actually have something in mind. Although it was clear that Theron needed to work on her definition of "laying low". The damn landing pad and entryway to this place was bigger than his entire apartment back on Coruscant had been.

"You've been holding out on me," he teased, "if I had known you were the ostentatious type I'd have brought you a bigger ship when I said hello on Odessen."

"Theron…"

"Am I going to need to pull off an elaborate heist to be able to afford your anniversary gift?"

The little huff she let out told him he'd managed to ruffle her patented Jedi calm.

"Because we haven't exactly worked out the whole salary structure at the Alliance yet. Do you need one or five Tionese hovering ornaments?"

"You are having far too much fun with this."

"Exactly how much did this little slice of Hutt paradise set you back? The prime real estate alone must be worth a couple of million—"

She led the way from the large foyer into an even larger hallway that branched off to several more rooms that he could only guess the size at. The intricate scrollwork lovingly etched in on each doorway added another few hundred thousand credits to the price tag he was currently calculating in his head. The whole place had clearly been decorated by someone with means and access to a particularly lavish interior designer. As she led the way further into the opulent paradise, he couldn't resist sticking his hand through an intricate holostatue, feeling an inexplicable thrill of satisfaction as the perfect piece of art wavered briefly from the unexpected contact.

"I didn't _buy_ it," she insisted.

"Did you _steal_ it?"

"Of course not." She swung around to fix him with an offended look. "How could you even suggest that?"

"I'm just trying to figure out how my Little Miss Humble Outlander—"

"Don't call me that."

"—got her hands on this swanky joint."

"It was a gift."

"From _who_? The entire Hutt Cartel?"

Her mouth shut with a click and pink flush rushed to her cheeks as she quickly rushed through yet another set of doors to an even _larger_ room that could have fit an entire cantina inside of it, if that fully stocked bar at the far end was any indication. Wait, was that _Whyren's Reserve_? And a giant balcony with a view of all of the nicest casinos on the Smuggler's Moon? _The hell…?_

He quickly kept pace with the blushing Jedi, her silence speaking volumes. "You can't be serious! I was joking—"

"It's a long story…"

"That ends with one of the largest crime organizations in the galaxy just giving you a giant palace? I have to hear this."

"Oh, then will I get to hear the story about how you lost your clearance here so we had to smuggle ourselves in?"

Theron grimaced. That particular tale wasn't as fun, and definitely didn't have the happy ending of him getting handed the keys to an apartment worth three or four standard Republic retirement packages. "Do I have to?"

"If I share and you don't, it's not very fair, is it?"

"I'm not really in the sharing mood."

"Then how else do you propose we pass the time?"

"Well, you could always give me a tour," he dropped his voice a few octaves as he leaned in suggestively, "and you can show me everything, including the master bedroom?"

"Why would you want to see that?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and just waited.

One beat, two beats, and then suddenly the pink tinge to her cheeks darkened to a dark red as she suddenly caught his meaning. "But—but there are so many _windows_ in there!"

His grin just widened further and became more wolfish as he rested a hand very lightly on her hip. The red flush to her cheeks spread to the rest of her face, and likely beyond. "Is that a problem?"

"I—what if someone— ** _SO_** the Supreme Chancellor needed me on Makeb and there were earthquakes and the planet was shaking apart and did you know that the Hutt Cartel doesn't plan ahead very well? Because they were all there on the planet they were drilling apart and I had to save them and you know how the Hutts hate owing favors—stop grinning! It's not funny!"

"Do you know how adorable you are when you get flustered?"

"Stop," she moaned miserably as she hid her face in his chest.

"Say, did you happen to rescue the entire planet of Zeltron from certain destruction? Because it'd sure be fun to stay a place like this if we ever decided to take a vacation there."

Rather than answering, she just buried her face further into his chest and let out another groan.


End file.
